The closing ceremony of the tournant was a spectacle to behold, with tens of thousands of visitors filling the grand arena to celebrate the achievents of the academy's finest. The atmosphere was electric, far surpassing that of the group exams. While the group exams were crucial for Hall's advancent, the personal exams were where individual prowess truly shone, showcasing the acolytes' abilities in full force. This year's ceremony held even greater significance, marking the first graduation since the academy's founding three years ago.
As the ceremony comnced, all gold insignia holders were called to the stage, their achievents recognized before the crowd. The top 10 acolytes, the elite of the elite, were positioned at the highest point of the stage, each one a symbol of unparalleled talent and hard work.
Headmaster Goldstein himself presided over the awards, a figure of imnse respect and authority within the Academy. As he handed out the recognitions and rewards, the crowd erupted into applause, the sound of clapping and cheering resonating throughout the grand arena. Each acolyte stood proudly, basking in the mont of glory they had earned through countless hours of training and fierce battles.
For many in the audience, this was more than just a ceremony—it was a celebration of perseverance, strength, and the relentless pursuit of excellence. The cheers continued to echo through the arena, a testant to the high stakes and the incredible achievents of those who had fought their way to the top.
Witnessing Damo being listed as rank 97 and Dillion as rank 19 filled Ery, Klea, and Akhasa, along with the rest of Hall 60, with uncontainable excitent. Their cheers echoed through the grand arena, a collective outpouring of pride and joy.
When Shinta's na was called to step forward to the front line, Ery felt a warmth swell within him that was almost overwhelming.
Seeing his daughter, with her striking silvery hair and fierce personality, Ery couldn't help but reminded of a certain person and smile, a bittersweet feeling in his heart.
"I hope you are seeing this…" Ery murmured softly to himself.
Shinta's achievent wasn't just a personal victory; it was a triumph for all half-bloods. Her entry into the top 10 brought a new level of respect from her fellow half-blood acolytes and her na began to spread like wildfire across the half-blood community, proof that they were not just brutish warriors, but could stand toe-to-toe with the other genius of the academy, and their ancient techniques.
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As the closing ceremony concluded and the crowd began to disperse, not everyone shared in the celebration. In the shadowed corners of the grand arena, a small group of instructors and influential figures within the Magus Alliance gathered, their expressions dark with irritation. The victory of a half-blood over their prized Nephilim acolyte did not sit well with them.
"This is an embarrassnt," one of the figures murmured, his voice laced with disdain.
Whispers of dissatisfaction and scorn filled the air, directed at the grand magus instructor of the Nephilim Hall. "How could our best acolyte fall to a re serpent girl?". The murmurs grew louder, fueled by a sense of frustration. Adding to their worries was the recent confrontation with the Astiel family, where the father of the very sa girl had inflicted a significant blow. The timing of these events, combined with Shinta's unexpected victory, set the stage for a deepening tension within the Nephilim faction.
The unrest among the Nephilim leadership reached such a height that one of their high-ranking leaders decided to take action. A personal ssage was sent directly to Headmaster Goldstein of the Magus Academy. The content of the ssage was clear—a demand for reassurance, a call for action, and perhaps, a veiled threat.
When the headmaster's reply ca, it was succinct but carried enough weight to quell so of the growing unrest.
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Hall 60 was alive with celebration. Tables were laden with sumptuous food—roast ats, fresh fruits, and delicacies from across the realms. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the lively chatter of acolytes.
The results of the personal exam were indeed sothing to be celebrated. KingRig and Blaine, display their bronze insignia, while Kat and Ha Ron, with their silver insignia. But the real stars of the night were Dillion and Damo, who had both earned their prestigious gold insignia, signifying their place among the academy's elite.
"Congratulations!!" echoed throughout the hall as acolytes and instructors alike raised their glasses in a toast to their comrades' success.
The celebration continued with music and dance, the acolytes showing off their skills in a more relaxed setting. Even Klea took to the stage, her presence enchanting the crowd as she perford with grace and charm. Her skills captivated everyone, adding an extra layer of joy to the festivities.
As the night wore on and the festivities began to wind down, Dillion made his way through the crowd, seeking out Ery. His face, usually calm and composed, was tinged with a hint of regret. "Master, I couldn't win the last match. I let you down."
Ery shook his head and placed a reassuring hand on Dillion's shoulder. "You fought with everything you had, and that's all anyone can ask for." He paused, his eyes locking onto Dillion's with a look of firm belief. "Your future is as vast. Who knows, you might even surpass one day."
Dillion's eyes widened in surprise, then softened with gratitude. "Thank you, Master," he replied, his voice filled with renewed determination. The weight of his earlier defeat seed to lift, replaced by a newfound resolve.
As the party in Hall 60 continued with its lively music and exuberant festivities, a new guest made her entrance. Shinta, fresh from her own celebration at the half-blood hall, burst into the room with a cheerful exclamation.
"I'm not late, am I!?" she called out, her voice full of youthful exuberance.
The acolytes of Hall 60 greeted her arrival with warm applause and cheers. However, Ery's mood shifted from celebratory to uneasy. As he watched his daughter, barely 16 years old, with a slightly tipsy deanor, a surge of paternal concern washed over him.
Klea intervened before Ery's growing irritation could dampen the festive atmosphere. "Let the girl celebrate, alright? Don't you rember? We did the sa at their age."
Despite her attempt to calm him, the mory of Klea stumbling drunk and collapsing on his bed years ago flashed through Ery's mind, only heightened his concern.
Ery remained apprehensive. His protective instincts kept him alert, watching over the party like a vigilant guardian.
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